THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


WORKS  OF  MRS,  A.  D.  T.  WHITNEY. 


A    SUMMER   IN    LESLIE   GOLDTHWAITE'S 
LIFE.     Illustrated.     i2mo  $1.50 

REAL   FOLKS.     Illustrated,     iz-no  1.50 

WE   GIRLS:  A  HOME  STORY.     Illustrated. 

izmo 1.50 

THE     OTHER     GIRLS.       Illustrated.       i2mo. 

500  pages  2.00 

SlG.'fTS  AND  INSIGHTS.    2  vols.    i2mo 3.00 

PANSIES:    A    Volume   rf  Poemt.      Beautifully 

bound  in  Purple  and  Gold.    i6mo 150 

"  Such  books  as  hers  should  be  in  every  household,  to  be  read. 


sucn  DOCKS  as  hers  should  be  in  every  household,  to  be  read, 
loaned,  re-read  and   re-loaned,  so  long  as  the  leaves  and  cover  will 
hold  together.  —  not  holiday  volumes'for  eletjant  qu 
and  ag  Tess've  works,  with  a  •  mission,'  which  is.  to 
better  than  they  find  it."  — Boston  Common-wealth. 


For  tale  by  all  Booksellers.    Sent  by  mail,  fos'-paid,  by 

HOUJHTJN,  O<TTOOD  &  co., 

PUBLISHERS,  BOSTON. 


P  A  N  S  I  E  S 


for  thoughts? 


ADELINE    D.   T.   WHITNEY, 

AUTHOR  OF  "REAL  FOLKS,"  "WE  GIRLS," 
ETC. 


BOSTON : 

HOUGHTON,   OSGOOD   AND   COMPANY. 

(ZT&e  Htticrsitc  Press,  Cambridge. 

1879. 


Entered  according  to  act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1872, 

BY  ADELINE  D.  T.  WHITNEY, 
the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washingtc 


UNIVERSITY  PRESS  :  JOHN  WILSON  &  SON. 
CAMBRIDGE. 


Only  a  handful,  —  of  thoughts,  that  have  blossomed  to 
•words,  and  so  been  gathered. 

In  pansy-colors,  — for  life  is  :  sad  and  rich  with  tender 
purples j  veined  even  with  black;  yet  glad  with  contrast- 
ing and  prevailing  gold,  —  the  sunshine  that  lies  always 
at  the  heart  of  it  > 

They  are  dedicated  to  the  friends  who  will  read  them 
deepest,  and  care  for  them  most. 


904061 


CONTENTS. 


OF    OCCASION. 

PAGE 

"UNDER  THE   CLOUD,   AND  THROUGH   THE   SEA"         .           .  3 

THE  ARMY  OF  THE  KNITTERS 6 

DE  PROFUNDIS 9 

PER  TENEBRAS,  LUMINA 12 

MY  DAPHNE .        •        •  16 

EXODUS 2I 

CONSUMMATION 25 

NINETY  YEARS 28 

HYMN   FOR  THE  FUNERAL  SERVICES   OF  REV.  RICHARD 

PIKE 31 

OF    SUGGESTION. 

LARWE 35 

BEHIND  THE  MASK 38 

NORTHEAST 4' 

ANTIPHONY 44 

RELEASED 51 

OVERSWEPT -54 

BEAUTY  FOR  ASHES 61 


VI  CONTENTS. 

A  RHYME  OF  MONDAY  MORNING 64 

THE  LAST  REALITY.    A  CHILD'S  SATIRE           .               .  67 

THE  THREE  LIGHTS 69 

HEARTH-GLOW       .        .        . 72 

IRIDESCENCE       . 75 

SPARROWS 78 

OF    INTERPRETATION    AND    HOPE. 

SUNLIGHT  AND  STARLIGHT         .        .  .        .        -83 

TWOFOLD 85 

"I  WILL  ABIDE  IN  THINE  HOUSE"                               .  39 

UP  IN  THE  WILD 91 

RAIN 94 

EQUINOCTIAL 99 

THE  SECOND  MOTHERHOOD 101 

CHRISTMAS 103 

EASTER         .    - 107 

A  VIOLET                 .                        110 


OF    OCCASION 


" UNDER  THE  CLOUD,  AND  THROUGH 
THE   SEA." 

1861. 

So  moved  they  when  false  Pharaoh's  legions 
pressed,  — 

Chariots  and  horsemen  following  furiously,  — 
Sons  of  old  Israel,  at  their  God's  behest, 

Under  the  cloud,  and  through  the  swelling  sea. 

So  passed  they,  fearless,  where  the  parted  wave 
With  cloven  crest  uprearing  from  the  sand, — 

A  solemn  aisle  before,  behind  a  grave, — 
Rolled  to  the  beckoning  of  Jehovah's  hand. 


4  " UNDER   THE    CLOUD, 

So  led  He  them,  in  desert  marches  grand, 
By  toils  sublime,  with  test  of  long  delay, 

On  to  the  borders  of  that  Promised  Land 
Wherein  their  heritage  of  glory  lay. 

And  Jordan  raged  along  his  rocky  bed, 

And  Amorite  spears  flashed  keen  and  angrily  ; 
Still    the    same    pathway    must    their    footsteps 

tread, 

Under  the  cloud,  and  through  the  threatening 
sea. 

God  works  no  otherwise.  No  mighty  birth 
But  comes  by  throes  of  mortal  agony  : 

No  man-child  among  nations  of  the  earth 
But  findeth  baptism  in  a  stormy  sea. 


AND    THROUGH    THE    SEA."  5 

Sons  of  the  saints  who  faced  their  Jordan-flood 
In  fierce  Atlantic's  unretreating  wave  ; 

Who,  by  the  Red  Sea  of  their  glorious  blood, 
Reached  to  the  freedom  that  your  blood  shall 
save! 

O  countrymen  !    God's  day  is  not  yet  done  ! 

He  leaveth  not  his  people  utterly. 
Count  it  a  covenant,  that  he  leads  us  on 

Beneath   the   cloud,  and  through  the  crimson 


THE   ARMY   OF  THE   KNITTERS. 

1861. 

FAR   away   in   your   camps   by   the    storied    Po- 
tomac, 

Where  your  lances  are  lifted  for  Liberty's  weal, 
As  the  north-wind    comes   down    from    the    hills 

of  the  home-land, 
Say,  catch  ye  the  clash  of  our  echoing  steel  ? 

Our   hands   are   untrained   to   the   touch   of  the 

rifle  ; 

They  shrink  from  the  blade  that  grows  red  in 
the  fight ; 


THE    ARMY    OF    THE    KNITTERS.  7 

But  their  womanly  weapons  leap  keen  from  their 

sheathing, 

And    the   work    that    they   find   they   will   do 
with  their  might. 

Your   host    that    stands    marshalled    in    solemn 

battalions 

Beneath  the  dear  flag  of  the  Stripes  and  the  Stars, 
Hath  as  loyal  a  counterpart  here  at  our  hearth- 
stones 
As  ever  went  forth  to  the  front  of  the  wars. 

Uplift    in   your   strength    the   bright    swords   of 

your  fathers  ! 

Repeat    for   yourselves   the   brave   work   they 
have  done! 


8  THE    ARMY    OF    THE    KNITTERS. 

We  Ve  the  side-arms  our  mothers  wore  proudly 

before  us, 

And  the  heart  of  the  field  and  the  fireside  is 
one  ! 

We  rouse  to  the  rescue  !  We  've  mustered  in 
thousands ! 

We  may  not  march  on  in  the  face  of  the  foe  ; 
Yet  while  ye  shall  tramp  to  the  music  of  battle, 

Foot  to  foot  we  '11  keep  pace  wheresoever  ye  go  ! 

Ay,  soul  unto  soul  are  we  knitted  together  ! 

By  link  upon  link,  in  one  purpose  we  're  bound  ! 
God  mete  us  the  meed  of  our  common  endeavor, 

And  our  differing  deeds  with  one  blessing  be 
crowned ! 


DE   PROFUNDIS. 
1862. 

UP  from  our  anguish  look  we  to  Thy  face  ! 
From  reeling  earth  to  thy  sure  dwelling-place  ! 
Out  of  our  sin,  and  strife,  and  woe,  and  shame, — 
Our  crumbling  liberties,  and  perilled  name, — 
Through  misty  agony  of  blood  and  tears, 
Look  we  to  thee,  God  of  the  endless  years ! 

Save  thou  thy  remnant !     Still  we  trust  in  thee ! 
Yea,  though  thou  slay!     By  thine  eternity, — 
By  thy  great  Word,  whereon  our  hope  is  laid, — 
Thou  wilt  not  crush  the  work  thy  hand  hath  made  ! 


IO  DE    PROFUNDIS. 

Lead    as    Thou    wilt !     We    follow,    though    thy 

breath 
Call  through  the  valley  and  the  shade  of  death  ! 

Winnow  thy  garner,  though  thy  mighty  fan 
Sweep  such  an  arc  as  counts  the  age  of  man  ! 
Though  husks  of  empire  into  dust  are  hurled, 
And  burn  as  chaff,  to  renovate  thy  world  ! 
Our  souls  lie  prone  upon  thy  threshing-floor, 
And  joy  that  God  is  in  their  midst  once  more  ! 

We  stand,  as  chosen  spirits  might  have  stood, 
In  the  old  days  that  saw  the  Polar  flood 
Surge  from  its  fastness  down  the  planet-slope, 
Grinding    the    mountains !     Grander    shows    the 
hope 


DE    PROFUNDIS.  I  I 

Born  of  thine  awful  change,  than  shines  in  days 
Circling  in  calm  their  age-accustomed  ways. 

We  see  thy  kingdom  coming !     In  the  clouds, 
Yet  with  great  glory  !     Though  the  eclipse  that 

shrouds 

Our  shortened  noon  shall  last  till  set  of  sun,  — 
Though  we  grow  old  before  the  fight  is  won,  — 
Though  day  for  us  be  nevermore  restored, 
We  will  look  onward  !     God  is  still  the  Lord  ! 


PER   TENEBRAS,   LUMINA. 

I  KNOW  how,  through  the  golden  hours 
When  summer  sunlight  floods  the  deep, 

The  fairest  stars  of  all  the  heaven 
Climb  up,  unseen,  the  effulgent  steep. 

Orion  girds  him  with  a  flame  ; 

.And  king-like,  from  the  eastward  seas 
Comes  Aldebaran,  with  his  train 

Of  Hyades  and  Pleiades. 

In  far  meridian  pride,  the  Twins 

Build,  side  by  side,  their  luminous  thrones ; 


PER   TENEBRAS,    LUMINA.  13 

And  Sirius  and  Procyon  pour 
A  splendor  that  the  day  disowns. 

And  stately  Leo,  undismayed, 

With  fiery  footstep  tracks  the  sun, 

To  plunge  adown  the  western  blaze, 
Sublimely  lost  in  glories  won. 

I  know  if  I  were  called  to  keep 

Pale  morning-watch  with  grief  and  pain, 

Mine  eyes  should  see  their  gathering  might 
Rise  grandly  through  the  gloom  again. 

And  when  the  winter  Solstice  holds 
In  his  diminished  path  the  sun  ; 


14  PER   TENEBRAS,    LUMINA. 

When  hope  and  growth  and  joy  are  o'er, 
And  all  our  harvesting  is  done  ; 

When,  stricken  like  our  mortal  life, 

Darkened  and  chill,  the  Year  lays  down 

The  summer  beauty  that  she  wore, 

Her  summer  stars,  of  harp  and  crown  ; 

Thick  trooping  with  their  golden  tread, 
They  come  as  nightfall  fills  the  sky, — 

Those  stronger,  grander  sentinels,  — 
And  mount  resplendent  guard  on  high  ! 

Ah,  who  shall  shrink  from  dark  and  cold, 
Or  dread  the  sad  and  shortening  days, 


PER    TENEBRAS,    LUMINA. 

When  God  doth  only  so  unfold 
A  \vider  glory  to  our  gaze  ? 

When  loyal  truth  and  holy  trust, 
And  kingly  strength,  defying  pain, 

Stern  courage,  and  sure  brotherhood 
Are  born  from  out  the  depths  again  .' 

Dear  country  of  our  love  and  pride  ! 

So  is  thy  stormy  winter  given  ! 
So,  through  the  terrors  that  betide, 

Look  up,  and  hail  thy  kindling  heaven  ! 


MY    DAPHNE. 
1864. 

MY  budding  Daphne  wanted  scope 
To  bourgeon  all  her  flowers  of  hope. 

She  felt  a  cramp  around  her  root 
That  crippled  every  outmost  shoot. 

I  set  me  to  the  kindly  task ; 
I  found  a  trim  and  tidy  cask, 

Shapely,  and  painted  ;   straightway  seized 
The  timely  waif;   and  quick  released 


MY    DAPHNE. 

From  earthen  bound  and  sordid  thrall, 
My  Daphne  sat  there,  proud  and  tall. 

Stately  and  tall  like  any  queen, 
She  spread  her  farthingale  of  green, 

Nor  stinted  aught  with  larger  fate, 
So  inly  strong,  so  surely  great. 

I  learned,  in  accidental  way, 
A  secret  on  an  after  day ; 

A  chance  that  marked  the  simple  change 
As  something  curious  and  strange. 

And  so,  therefrom,  with  anxious  care, — 
Almost  with  underthought  of  prayer,  — 


1 8  MY    DAPHNE. 

As  day  by  day  my  listening  soul 
Waited  to  catch  the  coming  roll 

Of  pealing  victory,  that  should  bear 
My  country's  triumph  on  the  air,  — 

I  tended  gently  all  the  more 

The  plant  whose  life  a  portent  bore. 

The  weary  winter  wore  away, 
And  still  we  waited,  day  by  day, 

And  still,  in  full  and  leafy  pride, 
My  Daphne  strengthened  at  my  side, 

Till  her  fair  buds  outburst  their  bars, 
And  whitened  gloriously  to  stars  ! 


MY    DAPHNE. 


Above  each  stalwart,  loyal  stem 
Rested  their  heavenly  diadem  ; 

And  flooded  forth  their  incense  rare, 
A  breathing  joy  upon  the  air! 

Well  might  my  backward  thought  recall 
The  cramp,  the  hindrance,  and  the  thrall  ; 

The  strange  release  to  larger  space  ; 
The  issue  into  growth  and  grace  ; 

And  joyous  hail  the  homely  sign 
That  spelled  an  augury  divine. 

For  all  this  life,  and  light,  and  bloom,  — 
This  breath  of  peace  that  blessed  the  room, 


20  MY    DAPHNE. 

Was  born  from  out  the  banded  rim 
Once  crowded  close,  and  black,  and  grim 

With  grains  that  feed  the  cannon's  breath, 
And  boom  his  sentences  of  death  ! 


EXODUS. 

HEAR  ye  not  how,  from  all  high  points  of  time, 
From  peak  to  peak,  adown  the  mighty  chain 

That  links  the  ages,  —  echoing  sublime 

A  voice  almighty,  —  leaps  one  grand  refrain  ? 

Wakening  the  generations  with  a  shout 

And  trumpet-call  of  thunder,  —  come  ye  out ! 

Out  from  old  forms,  and  dead  idolatries  ! 

From  fading  myths  and  superstitious  dreams  ; 
From  Pharisaic  rituals  and  lies, 

And  all  the  bondage  of  your  shows  and  seems  ; 


22  EXODUS. 

Out,  on  the  pilgrim  path,  of  heroes  trod, 
Over  earth's  wastes  to  reach  forth  after  God  ! 

The    Lord   hath   bowed   his    heavens   and   come 

down  ! 

Now,  in  this  latter  century  of  time, 
Once  more  his  tent  is  pitched  on  Sinai's  crown ; 
Once  more  in  clouds  must  Faith  to  meet  Him 

climb  ; 

Once  more  his  thunder  crashes  on  our  doubt 
And  fear  and  sin,  "  My  people !   come  ye  out ! 

"  From  false  ambitions  and  vain  luxuries  ; 

From  puny  aims  and  indolent  self-ends  ; 
From  cant  of  faith,  and  shams  of  liberties, 

And  mist  of  ill,  that  truth's  pure  day-beam  bends; 


EXODUS.  23 

Out,  from  all  darkness  of  the  Egypt  land, 
Into  my  sun-blaze  on  the  desert  sand  ! 

"  Leave   ye    your    flesh-pots !    Turn   from    filthy 

greed 

Of  gain  that  doth  the  hungry  spirit  mock  ; 
And   heaven   shall   drop   sweet   manna  for  your 

need, 

And  rain  clear  rivers  from  the  unhewn  rock. 
Thus    saith     the     Lord!"     And    Moses,    meek, 

unshod, 
Within    the    cloud     stands    hearkening    to    his 

God! 

Show  us  our  Aaron,  with  his  rod  in  flower! 
Our  Miriam,  with  her  timbrel-soul  in  tune ! 


24  EXODUS. 

And  call  some  Joshua,  in  the  Spirit's  power, 

To  poise  our  sun  of  strength  at  point  of  noon  ! 
God  of  our  fathers  !    over  sand  and  sea, 
Still  keep  our  struggling  footsteps  close  to  thee  ! 


CONSUMMATION. 

THE   ATLANTIC   CABLE,  — 1858. 

WHEN  the  old  mountains,  o'er  the  flood, 

Raised'  their  great  foreheads  solemnly, 
Sending  their  first  bewildered  look 

Each  unto  each,  across  the  sea  ; 
From  peak  to  peak  the  rainbow  flame 

Sprang  with  its  telegraph  of  light, 
And  all  the  dark,  dividing  chasm 

Was  compassed  by  an  arch  of  might. 

The  smile  that  broke  upon  their  brows,— 
A  gleaming  joy  through  giant  tears,  — 

Was  God's  own  silent  prophecy 
And  promise  for  the  coming  years. 


26  CONSUMMATION. 

The  deep  receded  to  his  bounds; 

The  lands  lay  severed ;   but  on  high 
Already  shone  the  nuptial  ring, 

Held  as  a  presage  in  the  sky  ! 

With  vision  awed  we  read  to-day 

The  glowing  augury  of  time, 
And  stretch  our  half-believing  hands 

To  grasp  the  accomplishment  sublime. 
A  quiet  word  is  sped  along :  — 

"  God  has  been  with  us ;   it  is  done." 
The  marriage  blessing  has  been  given, 

And  the  two  continents  are  one  ! 

O  wedded  worlds !   what  God  hath  joined 
Let  never  passion  dare  to  part! 


CONSUMMATION.  2/ 

But,  down  the  golden-blossoming  age. 
Go  hand  in  hand,  and  heart  with  heart ! 

The  slender  thread  beneath  the  sea 

That  throbs  through  all  its  living  length 

With  common  joy, — still  may  it  be 

A  deathless  bond  of  peace  and  strength  ! 

So  the  great  promise,  sealed  in  light, 

And  gift  that  doth  the  grace  fulfil,  — 
The  band  on  earth,  —  the  bow  in  heaven, — 

From  deep  to  deep  shall  answer  still  ; 
Till  the  last  angel's  mighty  stride 

Shall  span  the  ocean  and  the  shore, 
And  floods  shrink  silent,  while  his  voice 

Proclaims  that  time  shall  be  no  more! 


NINETY   YEARS. 

A   MISSIONARY'S    BIRTHDAY.* 

TELL  us,  O  seer,  that  dost  serenely,  stand 

Upon  the  Pisgah  of  thy  ninety  years, 
What  lies  about  thee  in  the  landscape  grand 
Where  the  pure  light  from -out  the  Promised  Land 
Spans  with  its  peace  the  valley-mist  of  tears ! 

Read  us  the  vision,  with  its  backward  reach 

O'er  the  long  wayfare  in  the  wilderness, 
And  onward  to  the  farther  Jordan -beach 

*  Rev.  Father  Cleveland,  Boston,  June,  1862. 


NINETY    YEARS.  2Q 

That    marks    the    bound    where    endeth    mortal 

speech, 

Where  thought  is  life,  and  life  grows  measure- 
less! 

Still  toiling  on  along  the  middle  plain, 

With  the  hot  dust  of  noon  upon  the  brow, 
On   that  calm  height   we   hail    thee,  *and   would 

fain 
Catch    through   thine   eyes  a  glimpse   to   soothe 

our  pain, — 
Rest  from  our  future,  for  the  restless  now! 

How  shall  it  look  when  we  too  come  to  gaze 

Forth  from  that  mountain  of  expectancy 
Where  culminates  the  trending  of  these  ways, 


30  NINETY    YEARS. 

And  all  the  gathered  gleams  of  earthly  days 
Pour  their  full  flood  in  one  fair  sunset  sea  ? 

Ah,  useless  asking  !     None  but  Moses  might 

Look  from  his  own  life-ending ;  and  the  path 
Each  soul  doth  tread  may  lapse  in  heavenly  light, 
Or  wind  away  into1' the  hopeless  night 

Red  only  with  the  evening  clouds  of  wrath  ! 

We  give  thee  solemn  joy,  then,  that  hast  come, 

By  daily  access  of  thy  faithful  deed, 
By  steps  whereof  God's  mercy  keeps  the  sum, 
Safely  to  stand  where  human  praise  is  dumb, 
And    Christ's    "  Well    done "    is    thine   eternal 
meed  ! 


HYMN 

FOR    THE    FUNERAL    SERVICES    OF    REV.    RICHARD    PIKE, 
FEBRUARY   2O,    1863. 

FATHER  !   our  faith  grasps   upward  through  the 
gloom, 

Even  from  out  these  tears  ! 
Not  in  the  shadow  of  a  hopeless  tomb 

Lose  we  our  friend  of  years. 

A  dear  and  holy  presence  seemeth- still 

Within  our  midst  to  stand, 

\ 
And  such  a  silent  priesthood  to  fulfil 

As  maketh  parting  grand. 


We  will  bespeak  each  other  words  of  cheer ! 

In  this  our  saddened  shrine, 
Above  the  darkened  altar  and  the  bier 

See  we  a  light  divine ! 

Bid  thou  the  life  that  passeth  from  our  sight 

Visit  our  souls  with  grace ! 
So  may  we  also,  through  this  mortal  night, 

Reach  to  thy  Holy  Place. 


OF    SUGGESTION 


LARV.E. 

MY  little  maiden  of  four  years  old  — 
No  myth,  but  a  genuine  child  is  she, 

With  her  bronze-brown   eyes  and   her  curls  of 

gold  — 
Came,  quite  in  disgust,  one  day,  to  me. 

Rubbing  her  shoulder  with  rosy  palm, 
As  the  loathsome  touch   seemed  yet  to  thrill 
her, 

She  cried,  "  O  mother !   I  found  on  my  arm 
A  horrible,  crawling  caterpillar  !  " 


36  LARV/E. 

And  with  mischievous  smile  she  could  scarcely 
smother, 

Yet  a  glance  in  its  daring  half  awed  and  shy, 
She  added,  "  While  they  were  about  it,  mother, 

I  wish  they'd  just  finished  the  butterfly!" 

They  were  words  to  the  thought  of  the  soul 
that  turns 

From  the  coarser  form  of  a  partial  growth, 
Reproaching  the  infinite  patience  that  yearns 

With  an  unknown  glory  to  crown  them  both. 

Ah,  look  thou  largely,  with  lenient  eyes, 

On  whatso  beside  thee  may  creep  and  cling, 

For  the  possible  glory  that  underlies 

The  passing  phase  of  the  meanest  thing  ! 


LARVAE.  37 

What  if  God's  great  angels,  whose  waiting  love 

Beholdeth  our  pitiful  life  below 
From  the  holy  height  of  their  heaven  -above, 

Could  n't   bear  with    the  worm   till  the  wings 
should  grow? 


BEHIND   THE   MASK. 

IT  was  an  old,  distorted  face,  — 

An  uncouth  visage,  rough  and  wild,- 

Yet,  from  behind,  with  laughing  grace, 
Peeped  the  fresh  beauty  of  a  child. 

And  so,  contrasting  strange  to-day, 
My  heart  of  youth  doth  inly  ask 

If  half  earth's  wrinkled  grimness  may 
Be  but  the  baby  in  the  mask. 

Behind  gray  hairs  and  furrowed  brow 
And  withered  look  that  life  puts  on, 


BEHIND    THE    MASK.  39 

Each,  as  he  wears  it,  comes  to  know 
How  the  child  hides,  and  is  not  gone. 

For  while  the  inexorable  years 

To  saddened  features  fit  their  mould, 

Beneath  the  work  of  time  and  tears 

Waits  something  that  will  not  grow  old  ! 

The  rifted  pine  upon  the  hill, 

Scarred  by  the  lightning  and  the  wind, 
Through  bolt  and  blight  doth  nurture  still 

Young  fibres  underneath  the  rind  ; 

And  many  a  storm-blast,  fiercely  sent, 
And  wasted  hope,  and  sinful  stain, 

Roughen  the  strange  integument 

The  struggling  soul  must  wear  in  pain  ; 


4O  BEHIND    THE    MASK. 

Yet  when  she  comes  to  claim  her  own, 
Heaven's  angels,  haply,  shall  not  ask 

For  that  last  look  the  world  hath  known, 
But  for  the  face  behind  the  mask  ! 


NORTHEAST. 

WE  had  a  week  of  rainy  days  ; 

The  heaven  was  gray,  the  earth  was  grim 
And  through  a  sea  of  hopeless  haze 

The  dreamy  daylight  wandered  dim. 

The  saddened  trees,  with  weary  boughs, 
Drooped  heavily,  or  sullen  swayed 

Slow  answer  to  the  sobs  and  soughs 
The  jaded  east-wind,  whimpering,  made. 

Faint  as  the  dawn  the  noonday  seemed, 
With  hardly  more  of  stir  or  sound  ; 


42  NORTHEAST. 

The  only  noise  or  motion  seemed 

That  dull,  cold  dropping  on  the  ground. 

Vainly  the  Soul  her  frame  ignores  ; 

Deep  answereth  unto  deep  apart ; 
And  the  great  weeping  out  of  doors 

Touched  the  tear  fountains  in  the  heart. 

So  life  looked  drear,  and  heaven  was  dim  ; 

And  though  the  Sun  still  strode  the  sky, 
Through  the  thick  gloom  that  shrouded  him 

Scarce  trusted  we  the  joy  on  high. 

But,  sudden,  from  the  leafy  dark,  — 

The  close  green  covert  rain-bestirred,  — 


NORTHEAST. 


43 


Outbursting  tremulously,  hark, 
The  carol  of  a  little  bird  ! 

Ah,  long  the  storm  ;  yet  none  the  less, 
Hid  from  the  utmost  reach  of  ill, 

And  singing  in  the  wilderness, 

Some  small,  sweet  hope  waits  blithely  still ! 


ANTIPHONY. 

HANGING  where  the  May-tide  splendor,  pouring 
down  the  arches  blue, 

Pierces,  flooding  with  its  fulness  all  the  chamber 
through  and  through, — 

Swings  a  cage,  atilt  and  vibrant  with  the  rest- 
less feet  and  wings 

Of  three  glancing,  golden-feathered,  wonder- 
throated  little  things. 

Little  bits  of  living  glory  with  a  melody  in- 
breathed ; 

Pulses  of  a  mighty  music  in  the  sunlight  caught 
and  seethed, 


ANTIPHONY.  45 

Till  it  grew  concrete  about  them,  shaped  a  body 

and  a  bound 
For    the    throbbing    soul    of    sweetness    striving 

ceaseless  into  sound. 

Scanted  in  their  glimpse  of  heaven,  peering  with 

their  witless  eyes 
Outward,  where  the  unmeasured  answer  to  their 

untaught  yearning  lies ; 
Fluttering  with  a  secret  impulse  kindred  to  the 

summer  breeze, 
Springing  to  an  unknown   motion  of  the   far-off 

forest  trees. 

So  God  plumeth  many  a  spirit,  still  withholding 
space  to  soar; 


46  ANTIPHONY. 

Bids  it  wait  with  folded   pinion  till  He  openeth 

the  door : 
Seals  a  sense  that  still  respondeth  dimly  to  some 

distant  good, 
Stirring  all   the  mortal  nature  with  an  unborn 

angelhood. 


Sitting  in  the  quiet  chamber,  where  that  magic 
of  the  May 

Glorified  each  dull  surrounding  with  the  over- 
flow of  day, 

Only  their  soft  song  and  flutter  moved  the  silence 
of  the  room, 

And  the  clock  upon  the  mantel  telling  out  the 
strokes  of  doom. 


ANTIPHONY  47 

Saying    sternly,    and   repeating,  with   a   cadence 

sure  and  slow, — 
While  with  onward  march  the  minutes,  pauseless 

and  returnless,  go, 
"  Speeding,    speeding,    ever  speeding,  —  ebbing, 

ebbing,  still  away ! 
Minutes,  hours,  and  breath,  and  being!  —  life,  and 

death,  and  night,  and  day  ! " 

Still  I  heard  as  one  unheeding,  listening  but  the 

softened  strain 
Of  the  prisoned  joy  that  smote  me  with  a  strange 

rebuke  of  pain  ; 
So   its   semblance   did   interpret   hindered  hopes 

my  life  had  known, 
Waiting  God's  divine   releasing,  as  these  waited 

for  mine  own. 


48  ANTIPHONY. 

Rising   up,  with   ready  finger   straight  I  set  the 

door  avvide  ; 
Swift    they   claimed   the    offered   franchise,   with 

its  compass  satisfied. 
Back  and  forth  throughout  the  chamber,  in  their 

joy  they  went  and  came ; 
Then,   as   in   a   still   assurance,   settled   o'er   the 

window-frame. 

Presently  a    clear,  triumphant    paean    cleft    the 

startled  air ; 
Notes  that  flashed  like  falling  rain-drops,  bright 

and  sudden,  everywhere  ; 
Slender  breaths  of  piercing  sweetness,  like  keen 

needleshafts  of  sound, 
Then  a  tender,  tremulous  rapture,  and  a  quiet 

closing  round. 


ANTIPHONY.  49 

Quiet.     Yet  from   o'er   the    mantel  came  those 

urgent  strokes  of  time, 
Meting   the   unmeasured    stillness   as  a   thought 

is  pulsed  with  rhyme  ; 
With    their    deep    insistance   uttering    self-same 

syllables  alway,  — 
"  Minutes,  hours,  and  breath,  and  being !  —  life, 

and  death,  and  night,  and  day ! " 

While  the  birds  above  the  casement,  like  souls 
stricken  into  shame,  — 

All  their  sudden  burst  of  joyance  quivered  out, 
like  taper-flame,  — 

Side  by  side  sat  hushed  and  awestruck,  hearken- 
ing as  with  holden  breath  ; 

Every  little  heart-beat  merging  in  those  cadences 
of  death ! 


5<D  ANTIPHONY. 

Ah,  methought,  the   old  incongruence  !   still  the 

strangeness  and  the  strife  ! 
Still   the  weary  counterpoising,  sense  with    soul, 

and  law  with  life  ! 
Feeling  only  for  a  little,  what  it  is  to  wear  the 

wings  ; 
Just  a  breath  of  perfect  music  while  the  uncaged 

spirit  sings ; 

Then  the  confine  shutting  round  us,  and  a  dull, 

relentless  tone 
Finer  utterance  overbearing  with  the  pressure  of 

its  own. 
Yet,  with   all   its  hard  repeating,  tells  the  letter 

less  or  more 
Than  the  brief  and  sweet  revealing  of  the  gospel 

gone  before  ? 


RELEASED. 

A  LITTLE,  low-ceiled  room.     Four  walls 
Whose  blank  shut  out  all  else  of  life, 

And  crowded  close  within  their  bound 
A  world  of  pain,  and  toil,  and  strife. 

Her  world.     Scarce  furthermore  she  knew 
Of  God's  great  globe  that  wondrously 

Outrolls  a  glory  of  green  earth 
And  frames  it  with  the  restless  sea. 

Four  closer  walls  of  common  pine  ; 
And  therein  lying,  cold  and  still, 


2  RELEASED. 

The  weary  flesh  that  long  hath  borne 
Its  patient  mystery  of  ill. 

Regardless  now  of  work  to  do, 
No  queen  more  careless  in  her  state, 

Hands  crossed  in  an  unbroken  calm  ; 
For  other  hands  the  work  may  wait. 

Put  by  her  implements  of  toil ; 

Put  by  each  coarse,  intrusive  sign  ; 
She  made  a  Sabbath  when  she  died, 

And  round  her  breathes  a  rest  divine. 

Put  by,  at  last,  beneath  the  lid, 

The  exempted  hands,  the  tranquil  face 


RELEASED.  53 

Uplift  her  in  her  dreamless  sleep, 
And  bear  her  gently  from  the  place. 

Oft  she  hath  gazed,  with  wistful  eyes, 
Out  from  that  threshold  'on  the  night ;  • 

The  narrow  bourn  she  crosseth  now  ; 
She  standeth  in  the  eternal  light. 

Oft  she  hath  pressed,  with  aching  feet, 
Those  broken  steps  that  reach  the  door  ; 

Henceforth,  with  angels,  she  shall  tread 
Heaven's  golden  stair,  forevermore  ! 


OVERSWEPT. 

A   PICTURE. 

I  SIT  by  a  window  high 

Looking  out  among  waving  trees 
That,  across  the  blue  of  the  sky, 
Move  daintily  with  the  breeze. 
And  the  draperies  of  green, 
And  that  purity  serene, 
And  the  clouds  of  floating  white 
Shining  in  upper  light, 
Are  all  that  may  be  seen. 

The  world  is  beneath  me,  low, 
As  if  upon  bended  knee 


OVERSWEPT.  5  5 

Receiving  the  chrism  that  so 
.  Baptizeth  her  gloriously  ; 
For  the  light  is  like  answer  given 
From  the  open  gates  of  heaven 
To  prayers  from   the   souls   of   her   saints,   that 

rise 
Through  the  tender  noon-hush,  into  the  skies. 

And  the  silently  folding  air 
Is  luminous  everywhere 

With  a  misty  shimmer  of  gold  ; 
Till  but  for  the  sweet  and  merciful  blue 
In  the  far,  deep  heaven  unrolled,  — 
The  mystery  infinite  presence  comes  through, — 
Struck  by  the  glory  unconfined, 
The  soul  and  the  vision  alike  were  blind. 


56  OVERSWEPT. 

From  the  chambers  of  the  west 

There  cometh  a  rush  and  a  stir  ; 
And  across  the  Noon's  deep  rest 

A  thrill  that  arouseth  her. 
For  the  Wind  hath  lifted  his  wings 

In  the  heights  where  his  hidings  are, 
And  the  earth,  with  tremulous  sjiudderings, 

Acknowledgeth  him  afar. 


A  gloom  creeps  over  the  gold 
From  a  pall  with  a  waving  fringe 

That  against  the  sunlight  is  suddenly  rolled, 
And  the  tree-tops  huddle  and  cringe 

In  the  first,  quick  whisper  of  the  blast 

That  down  from  the  great  hills  hurrieth  fast. 


OVERSWEPT.  57 

And  the    sweeping,  wavering  cloud 

Is  seen  as  a  distant  rain 
That  rustles  its  garments  aloud, 

And  poureth  along  the  plain. 


The  quivering  forest  groans, 
And  tosses  her  arms  on  high, 

And  struggles,  and  writhes,  and  moans, 
Like  a  soul  in  agony. 

Till  her  high  imperial  crown, 
In  cowering  panic  and  fear, 
At  the  pitiless  presence  near, 

Bends  blindly  and  wretchedly  down, 
And  the  tempest,  that  comes  with  a  terrible  stride, 
Sets  his  dusky  foot  on  her  forehead  of  pride. 


58  OVERSWEPT. 

The  valley  is  filled  with  mist  ; 

With  a  drifting,  powdery  cloud  ; 
And  the  hills  that  the  sunlight  kissed 

Are  wrapped  in  a  winding  shroud. 
Yet  afar  off,  over  the  sea 

And  along  the  distant  shore, 
Still  a  moment,  quenchlessly, 

Doth  an  unreached  splendor  pour  ; 
Like  a  hope  kept  safe  in  the  coming  years 
For  a  life  that  looks  on  through  a  mist  of  tears. 

While  the  rain  from  overhead, 
With  a  steep  and  passionate  rush, 
A  sounding  sweep  and  crush, 

Cometh  down  like  drops  of  lead  ; 

And  on  field,  and  forest,  and  hiil, 


OVERSWEPT.  59 

The  terror  and  struggle  are  past ; 
For  the  paralyzed  earth  is  still 

In  the  clutch  of  the  storm  at  last.  . 
And  high  in  his  towering  pride 

Doth  the  sheeted  giant  stand, 
With  his  watery  robe  unfolded  wide 

And  trailing  along  the  land. 

Yet  look  !   for  its  border  is  riven  ! 

Already  the  light  of  the  skies 
Hath  touched  with  the  beauty  of  heaven 

The  hem  that  behind  him  lies  ; 
And  while  with  a  face  of  wrath 

He  hasteneth  on  to  the  sea, 
The  step  of  the  sunbeam  along  his  path 

Is  following  urgently. 


60  OVERSWEPT. 

Ah,  thus  to  the  eyes  that  look  below 

From    the   far-off    heights    of    the   heavenly 
,   towers 

On  the  birth  and  end  of  this  life  of  ours, 
Doth  it  still  from  glory  to  glory  go,  — 
From  the  sun-bathed  hills  to  the  deep  serene,  — 
Though  the  shifting  storm  may  hang  between  ! 


BEAUTY   FOR  ASHES. 

WE  have  no  glory  of  the  woods  this  year! 

The  Summer  lieth  dead  upon  her  bier, 

And  parched  and  brown,  with  faint  and  fluttering 

fall, 
Gaunt  arms  drop  down  her  melancholy  pall. 

Like  some  remorseful  spirit  she  hath  gone, 
Finding  no  wedding  garment  to  put  on  ; 
From  fever  dropt  to  silence  ;   day  by  day, 
Her  green  hope  lost,  —  so  perishing  away. 

All  passion-burned  were  her  meridian  hours, 
Untouched  by  any  tenderness  of  showers : 


62  BEAUTY   FOR   ASHES. 

Too  late  the  wild  winds  and  the  penitent  rain 
Vex  the  dead  days  that  are  not  born  again. 

So  said  we  in  the  early  autumn-time, 
Missing  the  red  leaf  and  the  golden  prime  ; 
And  still  the  rain  fell  with  sweet,  patient  woe, 
Like  heart  sin-broken,  that  can  only  so. 

Then  there  befell  a  wonder.    Scathed  and  burned, 
Great   trees   stood   leafless ;    but    the    earth-soul 

yearned 

Toward  her  salvation,  and  it  came  to  pass, — 
Green  resurrection  of  young,  gentle  grass. 

Fair  in  October  as  it  had  been  May ! 
No  matter  for  the  season  passed  away, 


BEAUTY   FOR   ASHES.  63 

For  shortening  suns,  or  useless  little  while  : 
Heaven's   outright   grace   gave   back  that  vernal 
smile. 

We  missed  no  more  the  golden  and  the  red, 
For  joy  that  the  deep  heart  was  quick,  not  dead. 
We  saw  as  angels  see  ;  through  loss  and  sinnings : 
All    times    are    spring   to   God's   dear   new   be- 
ginnings. 


A  RHYME  OF  MONDAY  MORNING. 

ONE  half  the  world  is  wringing  wet, 

Or  on  the  lines  a-drying ; 
That  so  the  seven  days'  smirch  may  get 

A  weekly  purifying. 

A  smoke  goes  up  through  all  the  air, 

And  dims  its  summer  glory  ; 
Like  that  which  doth  the  torment  bear 

Of  souls  in  purgatory. 

Vainly  to  shun  the  tax  we  seek ; 
In  penance  for  our  sinning, 


A  RHYME  OF  MONDAY  MORNING.       65 

One  day  is  forfeit  from  the  week, 
To  make  a  clean  beginning. 


For,  gathering  stain  as  on  we  go, — 
Type  of  our  shame  and  sorrow,  — 

White  robes  we  wore  but  yesterday 
Are  in  the  suds  to-morrow. 

Ah,  life  without  and  life  within 

In  unison  consenting! 
Six  days  contracting  soil  and  sin  ; 

One,  washing  and  repenting! 

O  world,  once  swept  with  awful  flood 
From  ages  of  pollution ! 


66  A    RHYME   OF   MONDAY    MORNING. 

O  nations,  cleansed  with  fire  and  blood 
In  day  of  absolution  ! 

May  God  assoilzie  all  at  last ! 

Of  all  be  loving-heedful ! 
And  place  us  where,  earth's  purging  past, 

No  washing-day  is  needful ! 


THE    LAST    REALITY. 

A  CHILD'S   SATIRE. 

CHILQREN  want  always  the  "truliest"  things, 
The  things  that  come  nearest  to  life; 

Grown-up  and  real:   for  —  sweet  little  souls  — 
They  believe  in  the  world  and  his  wife  ! 

Grown-up  is  real :   we  stand  in  the  light 
Of  their  heaven  with  our  pitiful  shows, 

Till  the  shams  of  our  living  become  to  their  sight 
Most  in  earnest  of  all  that  it  knows. 

Kathie  wanted  a  doll  for  her  Christmas  this  year, 
A  doll  that  could  do  something  grand  ; 


68  THE    LAST    REALITY. 

"  Not  cry  ;  that 's  for  babies  "  ;  nor  might  it  suffice 
That  she  simply  could  sit  and  could  stand. 

"  And  I  don't   care   for  eyes  that  will  open  and 
shut." 

"You  .did."     "Well,  the  care  is  all  gone. 
I  Ve  seen  'em  enough,  mamma  ;   /  want  a  doll 

With  hair  that  takes  off  and  puts  on!" 


THE  THREE   LIGHTS. 

MY  window  that  looks  down  the  west, 
Where  the  cloud-thrones  and  islands  rest, 
One  evening,  to  my  random  sight, 
Showed  forth  this  picture  of  delight. 

The  shifting  glories  were  all  gone  ; 
The  clear  blue  stillness  coming  on  ; 
And  the  soft  shade,  'twixt  day  and  night 
Held  the  old  earth  in  tender  light. 

Up  in  the  ether  hung  the  horn 

Of  a  young  moon  ;  and,  newly  born 


7<D  THE    THREE    LIGHTS. 

From  out  the  shadows,  trembled  far 
The  shining  of  a  single  star. 

Only  a  hand's  breadth  was  between  : 
So  close  they  seemed,  so  sweet-serene, 
As  if  in  heaven  some  child  and  mother, 
With  peace  untold,  had  found  each  other. 

Then  my  glance  fell  from  that  fair  sky 
A  little  down,  yet  very  nigh, 
Just  where  the  neighboring  tree-tops  made 
A  lifted  line  of  billowy  shade, — 

And  from  the  earth-dark  twinkled  clear 
One  other  spark,  of  human  cheer ; 
A  home-smile,  telling  where  there  stood 
A  farmer's  house  beneath  the  wood. 


THE    THREE    LIGHTS.  7 1 

Only  these  three  in  all  the  space  ; 

Far  telegraphs  of  various  place. 

Which  seeing,  this  glad  thought  was  mine, — 

Be  it  but  little  candle-shine, 

Or  golden  disk  of  moon  that  swings 
Nearest  of  all  the  heavenly  things, 
Or  world  in  awful  distance  small, 
One  Light  doth  feed  and  link  them  all ! 


HEARTH-GLOW. 

IN  the  fireshine  at  the  twilight, 

The  pictures  that  I  see 
Are  less  with  mimic  landscape  bright 

Than  with  life  and  mystery. 

Where  the  embers  flush  and  flicker 
With  their  palpitating  glow, 

I  see,  fitfuller  and  quicker, 
Heart-pulses  come  and  go. 

And  here  and  there,  with  eager  flame, 
A  little  tongue  of  light 


HEARTH-GLOW.  73 

Upreaches  earnestly  to  claim 
A  somewhat  out  of  sight. 

I  know,  with  instinct  sure  and  high, 

A  somewhat  must  be  there ; 
Else  should  the  fiery  impulse  die 

In  ashes  of  despair. 

Through  the  red  tracery  I  discern 

A  parable  sublime  ; 
A  solemn  myth  of  souls  that  burn 

In  ordeals  of  time. 

How  the  life-spark  yearns  and  shivers 
Till  the  whiteness  o'er  it  creep ! 

Till  the  last,  pale  hope  outquivers, 
And  quenches  into  sleep ! 


74  HEARTH-GLOW. 

Till  'mid  the  dust  of  what  has  been, 

It  lieth  dim  and  cold  ; 
Yet  holdeth  secretly,  within, 

Heart-fervor,  as  of  old  ! 

As  from  the  darkening  fireside 

I  slowly  turn  away, 
I  think  how  souls  of  men  abide 

The  breaking  of  the  day 

When  a  morning  touch  shall  stir  again 

Those  ashes  of  the  night 
That  gathered  o'er  our  hearts  of  pain 

To  keep  their  life  alight! 


IRIDESCENCE. 

A   LESSON   OF   A   SOAP-BUBBLE   BENEATH   A   GAS-LIGHT 

A  DROP,  a  breath,  and  lo !   a  sphere, 
Born  instant  and  immaculate, 

In  ring  of  silver  resteth  clear, 
Like  soul  in  circle  of  her  fate. 

As  life  that  drinks  the  eternal  light, 
It  lies  within  the  effulgent  glow 

Out  from  whose  depth,  untracked  of  sight, 
Pulses  of  beauty  fill  and  flow. 

Gather  and  flow,  as  sure  and  swift, 
In  self-same  order,  one  by  one, 


76  IRIDESCENCE. 

As  the  great  waves  that  earthward  drift 
Down  from  the  heart-beats  of  the  sun  ! 

It  seizes  first  the  crimson  gleam 

That  morning  lights  in  eastern  skies, 

That  bathes  in  one  resplendent  beam 
All  heaven  to  eager  morning  eyes. 

Day's  primal  and  redundant  flower; 

Life's  earliest  flush  and  plenitude ; 
The  rose-bloom  of  earth's  jubilant  hour; 

Her  passionate  overflow  of  good. 

God  giveth.     Not  his  best  at  first ; 

He  who  set  forth  the  feast  of  old 
Began  with  wine  that  was  the  worst ; 

After  the  crimson  comes  the  gold. 


IRIDESCENCE.  77 

The  gold  gives  way  to  gentler  green  ; 

The  green  still  calmeth  into  blue  ; 
The  rays  grow  tender  and  serene, 

As  thins  the  film  they  brighten  through. 

A  nobler  joy,  a  holier  hope, 

A  simple  resting  in  the  true, — 

So  life  within  her  trembling  scope 
Unfolds  each  pure,  progressive  hue ; 

Until,  just  ere  the  veil  is  riven, 

Ere  soul  resolves  from  sense  and  sight, 

She  catches  from  her  opening  heaven 
The  inner,  amethystine  light ! 


S-PARROWS. 

LITTLE  birds  sit  on  the  telegraph-wires, 

And  chitter,  and  flitter,  and  fold  their  wings  ; 

Maybe  they  think  that  for  them  and  their  sires 
Stretched  always,  on  purpose,  those  wonderful 
strings : 

And  perhaps  the  Thought  that  the  world  inspires 
Did  plan  for  the  birds,  among  other  things. 

Little  birds  sit  on  the  slender  lines, 

And  the  news  of  the  world  runs  under  their  feet : 
How  value  rises,  and  how  declines, 

How  kings  with  their  armies  in  battle  meet; 


SPARROWS.  79 

And  all  the  while,  'mid  the  soundless  signs, 
They    chirp    their    small    gossipings,    foolish- 
sweet. 

Little  things  light  on  the  lines  of  our  lives,  — 
Hopes,  and  joys,  and  acts  of  to-day; 

And  we  think  that  for  these  the  Lord  contrives, 
Nor  catch  what  the  hidden  lightnings  say. 

Yet  from  end  to  end  His  meaning  arrives, 
And  His  word  runs  underneath  all  the  way. 

Is  life  only  wires  and  lightnings  then, 

Apart  from  that  which  about  it  clings? 
Are  the  thoughts,  and  the  works,  and  the  prayers 
of  men 


SO  SPARROWS. 

Only  sparrows   that  light  on  God's  telegraph- 
strings, 
Holding  a  moment,  and  gone  again  ? 

Nay  :  He  planned  for  the  birds,  with  the  larger 
things. 


OF  INTERPRETATION  AND  HOPE. 


SUNLIGHT  AND   STARLIGHT. 

GOD  sets  some  souls  in  shade,  alone  ; 
They  have  no  daylight  of  their  own  : 
Only  in  lives  of  happier  ones 
They  see  the  shine  of  distant  suns. 

God  knows.     Content  thee  with  thy  night; 
Thy  greater  heaven  hath  grander  light. 
To-day  is  close  ;   the  hours  are  small ; 
Thou  sit'st  afar,  and  hast  them  all. 


84       •  SUNLIGHT  AND  STARLIGHT. 

• 

Lose  the  less  joy  that  doth  but  blind  ; 
Reach  forth  a  larger  bliss  to  find. 
To-day  is  brief:   the  inclusive  spheres 
Rain  raptures  of  a  thousand  years. 


TWOFOLD. 

A  DOUBLE  life  is  this  of  ours ; 

A  twofold  form  wherein  we  dwell : 
And  heaven  itself  is  not  so  strange, 

Nor  half  so  far  as  teachers  tell. 

With  weary  feet  we  daily  tread 
The  circle  of  a  self-same  round ; 

Yet  the  strong  soul  may  not  be  held 
A  prisoner  in  the  petty  bound. 

The  body  walketh  as  in  sleep, 

A  shadow  among  things  that  seem  ; 


86  TWOFOLD. 

While  held  in  leash,  yet  far  away, 
The  spirit  moveth  in  a  dream. 


A  living  dream  of  good  or  ill, 

In  caves  of  gloom  or  fields  of  light ; 

Where  purpose  doth  itself  fulfil, 
And  longing  love  is  instant  sight. 

Where  time,  nor  space,  nor  blood,  nor  bond 
May  love  and  life  divide  in  twain  ; 

But  they  whom  truth  hath  inly  joined 
Meet  inly  on  their  common  plane. 

We  need  not  die  to  go  to  God; 
See  how  the  daily  prayer  is  given ! 


TWOFOLD.  87 

T  is  not  across  a  gulf  we  cry, 

"  Our  Father,  who  dost  dwell  in  heaven  ! " 

And  "  Let  thy  will  on  earth  be  done, 
As  in  thy  heaven,"  by  this,  thy  child  ! 

What  is  it  but  all  prayers  in  one, 
That  soul  and  sense  be  reconciled  ? 


That  inner  sight  and  outer  seem 

No  more  in  thwarting  conflict  strive  ; 

But  doing  blossom  from  the  dream, 
And  the  whole  nature  rise,  alive  ? 

There  's  beauty  waiting  to  be  born, 
And  harmony  that  makes  no  sound ; 


88  TWOFOLD. 

And  bear  we  ever,  unaware, 

A  glory  that  hath  not  been  crowned. 

And  so  we  yearn,  and  so  we  sigh, 
And  reach  for  more  than  we  can  see 

And,  witless  of  our  folded  wings, 
Walk  Paradise  unconsciously  ; 

And  dimly  feel  the  day  divine 

With  vision  half  redeemed  from  night, 

Till  death  shall  fuse  the  double  life 
And  God  himself  shall  give  us  light ! 


I   WILL  ABIDE   IN   THINE    HOUSE. 

AMONG  so  many,  can  He  care  ? 
Can  special  love  be  everywhere  ? 
A  myriad  homes,  —  a  myriad  ways, — 
And  God's  eye  over  every  place. 

Over;   but  in  f    The  world  is  full ; 
A  grand  omnipotence  must  rule ; 
But  is  there  life  that  doth  abide 
With  mine  own  living,  side  by  side  ? 

So  many,  and  so  wide  abroad : 
Can  any  heart  have  all  of  God  ? 


90  "  I    WILL    ABIDE    IN    THINE    HOUSE." 

From  the  great  spaces,  vague  and  dim, 
May  one  small  household  gather  Him? 

I  asked :   my  soul  bethought  of  this  :  — 
In  just  that  very  place  of  his 
Where  He  hath  put  and  keepeth  you, 
God  hath  no  other  thing  to  do  ! 


UP   IN   THE  WILD. 

UP  in  the  wild,  where  no  one  comes  to  look, 
There  lives  and  sings  a  little  lonely  brook : 
Liveth  and  singeth  in  the  dreary  pines, 
Yet  creepeth  on  to  where  the  daylight  shines. 

Pure  from    their    heaven,   in    mountain    chalice 

caught, 

It  drinks  the  rains,  as  drinks  the  soul  her  thought ; 
And  down  dim  hollows  where  it  winds  along. 
Pours  its  life-burden  of  unlistened  song. 

I  catch  the  murmur  of  its  undertone, 
That  sigheth  ceaselessly,  Alone !  alone ! 


92  UP    IN   THE   WILD. 

And  hear  afar  the  Rivers  gloriously 

Shout  on  their  paths  toward  the  shining  sea 


The  voiceful  Rivers,  chanting  to  the  sun, 
And  wearing  names  of  honor,  every  one  : 
Outreaching  wide,  and  joining  hand  with  hand 
To  pour  great  gifts  along  the  asking  land. 


Ah,  lonely  brook!     Creep    onward    through   the 

pines ; 
Press  through  the  gloom  to  where  the  daylight 

shines ! 

Sing  on  among  the  stones,  and  secretly 
Feel  how  the  floods  are  all  akin  to  thee  ! 


UP    IN    THE    WILD.  93 

Drink  the  sweet  rain  the  gentle  heaven  sendeth ; 
Hold  thine  own  path,  howeverward  it  tendeth  ; 
For  somewhere,  underneath  the  eternal  sky, 
Thou,  too,  shalt  find  the  Rivers,  by  and  by ! 


RAIN. 

FROM  all  this  vital  orb  of  earth 
A  breath  exhaleth  to  the  air, 

That,  heaven-distilled  to  equal  grace, 
Falls,  a  fresh  bounty,  everywhere. 

The  dark  mould  drinks  the  sunset  cloud, 
And  tastes  of  heaven  ;   unconsciously 

Green  forest-depths  are  stirred  to  catch 
A  far-off  flavor  of  the  sea. 

No  drop  is  lost.     God  counteth  all ; 
And  icy  crests,  in  glory  crowned 


RAIN.  95 

With  faint  rose-petals,  yield  and  take, 
And  so  the  unwasted  joy  goes  round. 

One  spirit  moveth  in  it  all ; 

One  life  that  worketh  large  and  free, 
To  each,  from  all,  forevermore, 

Giving  and  gathering  silently. 

God's  stintless  joy  goes  round,  goes  round : 

No  soul  that  dwellcth  so  apart 
It  may  not  feel  the  circling  pulse 

Outwelling  from  the  eternal  heart. 

Athirst !   athirst !    The  sandy  soil 
Bears  no  glad  trace  of  leaf  or  tree  ; 


96  RAIN. 

No  grass-blade  sigheth  to  the  heaven 
Its  little  drop  of  ecstasy : 


Yet  other  fields  are  spreading  wide 
Green  bosoms  to  the  bounteous  sun  ; 

And  palms  and  cedars  shall  sublime 
Their  raptures  for  thee,  waiting  one ! 

It  comes  with  smell  of  summer  showers, 

To  stir  a  dreamy  sense  within, 
Half  hope,  and  half  a  pained  regret ;  — 

It  may  be,  —  or,  it  might  have  been  ! 

The  joy  that  knows  there  is  a  joy ; 

That  scents  its  breath,  and  cries, "  'T  is  there  ! ' 


RAIN.  97 

And  patient  in  its  pure  repose, 
Receiveth  so  the  holier  share. 

I  know  a  life  whose  cheerless  bound 

Is  like  a  deep  and  silent  chasm 
Left  dark  between  the  day-bright  hills, 

In  time  long  past,  by  fiery  spasm. 

The  mocking  sunlight  leaps  across  ; 

The  stars,  with  Levite  glance,  go  by : 
So  vainly  doth  its  dreary  depth 

Plead  to  the  far-off,  pitiless  sky. 

Yet  ever  from  the  flinty  marge, 

And  down  each  rough  and  cavernous  side, 


98  RAIN. 

Trickle  the  drops  that  bear  their  balm 
From  ferny  bank  and  pasture  wide. 

It  drinketh,  drinketh,  day  by  day ; 

And  still,  within  its  bosom  deep, 
The  waiting  water,  filtered  clear, 

Doth  in  a  crystal  beauty  sleep. 

Waiting,  and  swelling,  till  it  find 

God's  outlet,  long  while  placed  and  planned, 
Whence,  strong  and  jubilant,  it  shall  sweep 

Down,  with  a  song-burst,  o'er  the  land. 


EQUINOCTIAL. 

THE  sun  of  life  has  crossed  the  line  ; 

The  summer-shine  of  lengthened  light 
Faded  and  failed,  till  where  I  stand 

'T  is  equal  day  and  equal  night. 

One  after  one,  as  dwindling  hours, 

Youth's  glowing  hopes  have  dropped  away, 

And  soon  may  barely  leave  the  gleam 
That  coldly  scores  a  winter's  day. 

I  am  not  young  ;    I  am  not  old  ; 
The  flush  of  morn,  the  sunset  calm, 


IOO  EQUINOCTIAL. 

Paling  and  deepening,  each  to  each, 
Meet  midway  with  a  solemn  charm. 

One  side  I  see  the  summer  fields 
Not  yet  disrobed  of  all  their  green  ; 

While  westerly,  along  the  hills 

Flame  the  first  tints  of  frosty  sheen. 

Ah,  middle  point,  where  cloud  and  storm 
Make  battle-ground  of  this,  my  life  ! 

Where,  even-matched,  the  night  and  day 
Wage  round  me  their  September  strife  ! 

I  bow  me  to  the  threatening  gale : 
I  know  when  that  is  overpast, 

Among  the  peaceful  harvest  days, 
An  Indian  summer  comes  at  last! 


THE   SECOND   MOTHERHOOD. 

"  He  shall  gather  the  lambs  in  his  arms,  and  carry  them  in  his 
bosom  ;  and  shall  gently  lead  those  that  are  with  young." 

O  HEARTS  that  long !    O  hearts  that  wait, 

Burdened  with  love  and  pain, 
Till  the  dear  life-dream,  earth-conceived, 

In  heaven  be  born  again! 

O  mother-souls,  whose  holy  hope 

Is  sorrowful  and  blind, 
Hear  what  He  saith  so  tenderly 

Who  keepeth  you  in  mind  ! 

Of  all  his  flock  He  hath  for  you 
A  sweet,  especial  grace ; 


IO2  THE   SECOND   MOTHERHOOD. 

And  guides  you  with  a  separate  care 
To  his  prepared  place. 

For  all  our  times  are  times  of  type, 
Foretokened  on  the  earth  ; 

And  still  the  waiting  and  the  tears 
Must  go  before  the  birth. 

Still  the  dear  Lord,  with  whom  abides 

All  life  that  is  to  be, 
Keeps  safe  the  joy  but  half  fulfilled 

In  his  eternity. 

Our  lambs  He  carries  in  his  arms 
The  heavenly  meads  among; 

And  gently  leadeth  here  the  souls 
Love-burdened  with  their  young  ! 


CHRISTMAS. 

WHAT  is  the  Christ  of  God  ? 
It  is  his  touch,  his  sign,  his  making  known. 
His  coming  forth  from  out  the  all-alone. 

The  stretching  of  a  rod 

Abloom  with  his  intent, 
From  the  invisible.     He  made  worlds  so: 
And  souls,  whose  endless  life  should  be  to  know 

What  the  worlds  meant. 

Christ  is  the  dear  "  I  Am." 
The  Voice  that  the  cool  garden-stillness  brake, — 


IO4  CHRISTMAS. 

The  Human  Heart  to  human  hearts  that  spake, 
Long  before  Abraham. 

The  word,  the  thought,  the  breath, — 
All  chrism  of  God  that  in  creation  lay,  — 
Was  born  unto  a  life  and  name  this  day; 

Jesus  of  Nazareth  ! 

With  man  whom  He  had  made 
God  came  down  side  by  side.     Not  from  the  skies 
In  thunders,  but  through  brother-lips  and  eyes, 

His  messages  He  said. 

Close  to  our  sin  He  leant, 

Whispering,  "  Be  clean  !  "    The  High,  the  Awful- 
Holy,  — 


CHRISTMAS.  IO5 

Utterly  meek,  —  ah  !  infinitely  lowly,  — 
Unto  our  burden  bent 

The  might  it  waited  for. 

"  Daughter,  be  comforted.  Thou  art  made  whole. 

Son,  be  forgiven  through  all  thy  guilty  soul. 

Sin  —  suffer  ye  —  no  more  !  " 

"  O  dumb,  deaf,  blind,  receive  ! 
Shall   He   who  shaped   the   ear    not   hear  your 

cry? 
Doth  He  not  tenderly  see  who  made  the  eye? 

Ask  me,  that  I  may  give  ! 

"  O  Bethany  and  Nain  ! 
I  show  your  hearts  how  safe  they  are  with  me. 


IO6  CHRISTMAS. 

I  reach  into  my  deep  eternity 
And  bring  your  dead  again  ! 

"  My  kingdom  cometh  nigh. 
Look  up,  and  see  the  lightening  from  afar. 
Over  my  Bethlehem  behold  the  star 

Quickening  the  eastward  sky  ! 

"  From  end  to  end,  alway, 

The  same  Lord,  I  am  with  you.     Down  the  night, 
My  visible  steps  make  all  the  mystery  bright. 

Lo !  it  is  Christmas  Day ! " 


EASTER. 

Do  saints  keep  holyday  in  heavenly  places  ? 
Does  the  old  joy  shine  new  in  angel  faces  ? 
Are  hymns  still  sung  the  night  when  Christ  was 

born, 
And  anthems  on  the  Resurrection  morn  ? 

Because  our  little  year  of  earth  is  run, 
Do  they  keep  record  there  beyond  the  sun? 
And  in  their  homes  of  light  so  far  away 
Mark  with  us  the  sweet  coming  of  this  day  ? 

What  is  their  Easter  ?     For  they  have  no  graves. 
No  shadow  there  the  holy  sunrise  craves, — 


IO8  EASTER. 

Deep  in  the  heart  of  noontide  marvellous 
Whose  breaking  glory  reaches  down  to  us. 

How  did  the  Lord  keep  Easter?     With  his  own  ! 
Back  to  meet  Mary  where  she  grieved  alone, 
With  face  and  mien  all  tenderly  the  same, 
Unto  the  very  sepulchre  He  came. 

Ah,  the  dear  message  that  He  gave  her  then, 
Said    for    the    sake    of    all    bruised     hearts    of 

men ! 

"  Go,  tell  those  friends  who  have  believed  on  me 
I  go  before  them  into  Galilee! 

"  Into  the  life  so  poor,  and  hard,  and  plain, 
That  for  a  while  they  must  take  up  again, 


EASTER.  109 

My  presence  passes !    Where  their  feet  toil  slow, 
Mine,  shining-swift  with  love,  still  foremost  go ! 

"  Say,  Mary,  I  will  meet  them.     By  the  way, 
To  walk  a  little  with  them.     Where  they  stay, 
To  bring  my  peace.     Watch  !  for  ye  do  not  know 
The  day,  the  hour,  when  I  may  find  you  so  ! " 

And  I  do  think,  as  He  came  back  to  her, 
The  many  mansions  may  be  all  astir 
With  tender  steps  that  hasten  in  the  way, 
Seeking  their  own  upon  this  Easter  day. 

•Parting  the  veil  that  hideth  them  about, 
I  think  they  do  come,  softly  wistful,  out 
From  homes  of  heaven  that  only  seem  so  far, 
And  walk  in  gardens  where  the  new  tombs  are ! 


A  VIOLET. 

GOD   does   not  send  us  strange  flowers  every 

year. 
When    the   spring  winds   blow  o'er  the  pleasant 

places, 

The  same  dear  things  lift  up  the  same  fair  faces. 
The  violet  is  here. 

It  all  comes  back:  the  odor,  grace,  and  hue; 
Each  sweet  relation  of  its  life  repeated : 
No  blank  is  left,  no  looking-for  is  cheated  ; 
It  is  the  thing  we  knew. 


A   VIOLET.  1 1 1 

So  after  the  death-winter  it  must  be. 
God  will   not   put  strange  signs  in  the  heavenly 

places : 

The  old  love  shall  look  out  from  the  old  faces. 
Veilchen  !   I  shall  have  thee  ! 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


N 


Form  L9-40m-7,'56(C790s4)444 


^008149998 


